I stand in front of the house, the soft golden light from the living room shining through the dark. My flamethrower is strapped to my back, weighing me down. I take the strap off my back, aiming for the closest wall. I pause for a second, considering knocking on the door. As a (self-proclaimed) professional arsonist, I try to be polite before burning down someone’s house. After a very long time standing in the cold and weighing my options, I finally make my way to the front door. I knock softly, hoping that they aren't home and I won’t have to talk to anyone today. I knock one more time, harder, and wait a few more seconds. After I don’t hear anything, I quickly walk away. Right as I do, the door swings open. I whip around, and a familiar guy with curly brown hair and blue eyes stands in the doorway.
“What do you want? It’s midnight and I–”
I cut him off, gasping dramatically. “MAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! I THOUGHT I BURNED DOWN YOUR LAST HOUSE?!”
Man is my (self–proclaimed) archenemy. He never goes away, and the last time I saw him he was in America, right before he dared to call the police after I burned down his million-dollar home.
He jerks back in shock before rolling his eyes. “That’s not my name! And I have other houses! After all, I am in real estate! And I thought you were in jail. Why the heck are you in Scotland?!”
“I could ask you the same thing!” I responded, pointing the barrel of my flamethrower at his face.
“How did you even get out of jail? There were a dozen police there!” He says, pulling out his phone.
“I have connections! But that's NOT important! What is it that I’m–”
The flash from his camera blinds me, but I fix the problem by slapping the phone out of his hands. It skids across the porch and into the garden.
“What was THAT for?!” He snapped. “I was trying to get evidence that you were here so I can prove that you’re out of jail and people won’t call me crazy again!”
I laugh at his sad attempt to take a picture of me. “As I told you, I have connections. You can’t see me on camera!” I jab my finger into his chest, and he winces. I grab his wrist and yank him out into the yard, gesturing with my hand away from the house. “Go and run away, I’m going to burn this place down now!”
He scoffs. “You think I’m just going to leave?”
“Yep,” I say simply. “You don’t have the guts to fight me. Last time you tried, you almost fell off a balcony.”
He scoffs again but leaves my side to go and sit on a marble bench nearby. He mumbles something to himself, but I ignore him. I point the tip of the flamethrower at some of the stones in the house, and it immediately catches fire. My flamethrower is special. It can set anything on fire, including stone and metal. Fire from hell is a bit different from Earth’s fire. The fire spreads to the brushes, and the sweet smell of smoke fills the sky.
“There we go!” I say, flicking my flamethrower off. I glance over at Man and give him a giant smile.
He scowls and crosses his arms as the crackle of fire gets louder and louder. “Did you have to do that?”
“Yes! It’s funny to see you annoyed!” I say, laughing after his expression gets even more annoyed.
“Whatever,” He mutters, turning his head away, and scowling at the ground. He quickly stood up and started running back towards the house.
“What are you doing?! The house is on fire!” I yell at his back.
“I’m getting my phone! To call the police on you!” He yells over his shoulder.
“You’re going to die before you can do that! Fire from hell doesn't like humans!”
He ignores me, running to the garden where his phone fell. The fire suddenly rushes towards him, and he trips over his own feet. He faceplates onto the ground.
“How are you that clumsy?! Come on, the fire’s going to get you!” I yell over the flame, running to his side and helping him off the ground.
“How am I going to call the police if I don’t have my phone?” He asks.
“Don’t know, don’t care.” I slip the strap of my flamethrower over my shoulder and run away from the house. He follows closely behind.
“Aha!” He says victoriously, “I have another one in my pocket!” He sticks it in front of my face to show me. He quickly taps the screen as we continue to run away from the house.
“Yes, police!” He says. He talks to the person on the other end, describing what I look like. “Er, put you on speakerphone? Alright.” Man clicks something on the screen and a voice talks out of the phone.
“So, you're saying the famous arsonist is running right next to you?” The voice asks.
“Yes, sir. He knocked on my door before setting my house on–”
“So this is what humans use to communicate! I’ve always wanted to use one!” I talk excitedly into the phone. I stop short of the gate that lets out onto the road.
“Excuse me?” said the voice.
“Sir, that’s the famous arsonist. I told you he was–”
“Why does he sound like a child?” Asks the voice.
I scowl down at the phone. “I’m no child! I’m 17!”
The voice mumbles something to himself. “Look, I ain't got time to deal with pranks, kid. If you see the famous arsonist, call us.” The call ends with a beep.
Man glares at me, and I smile. “I’ve never used a phone to call someone before!”
He angrily shoves the phone into his pocket, scowling. “They're gonna call me crazy again…”
I shrug, and his scowl deepens. “Why me? Why not any other random rich guy with way too many houses at a very young age?”
“Because you're evil! People walk into your houses, and then they look around them and then they leave! And then they come back and then you aren’t there! You’re breaking humans!” I kick open the gate, leaving a clear path to the paved road beyond it. The distant sound of fire trucks cut through the night.
He stares at me in bewilderment. “Is that what you think happens? They just rent those houses from me.”
“They what?! Is that some kind of blood contract?! You’re even more evil than I thought!” I yell, pointing my finger at him. I backed away from him onto the road.
He looks even more bewildered. “What are you talking about? They just give me money every month to live there.”
I look at him in confusion. “What do you mean every month?”
“They just give me it to live there. I don’t understand how you don’t even know about this! Where are you even from?” He asks.
“Hell! I’m from hell!” I say.
“Are you trying to mess with me?!”
A car drives around one of the curves on the road. The lights shine into my eyes, and I stumble backward, out of the way. I bump into Man, and my flamethrower clangs against his forehead.
“That’s it! I’m done with you!” He says. His face is twisted in anger. “Joking about being from hell and burning all my houses down! I’m done with you!”
“But I am from Hell…” I trail off as he angrily starts walking down the road.
I slip my flamethrower off and check it for damage. Still good. I sling it across my back and yell after him, “Where are you going?!”
“Away from you!” He yells back. “You’re insane!”
“There’s nowhere for you to go that way! How are you going to sleep, on the ground?” I yell, jogging after him.
He continues, ignoring me. I catch up to him, but he speeds up to get away from me.
“Can’t you just leave me alone?!” He asks, his voice raising in expiration. “You just burned down another one of my houses, which is a serious crime in the first place! And then you act all nice, chatting with me like it’s no big deal!” he snaps. He pauses on the road, turning to glare at me. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!”
He jumps back in shock when he sees me holding back a laugh.
“You’re…so…funny!” I say between laughs. “Come on, you can just stay with me for tonight. I have a place.” I start to walk away from him.
He stops walking, and I glance behind him. “You coming?”
His expression is murderous. His fists are clenched and he looks like he’s holding back from punching me. “Stop being nice! You’re a arsonist, I can’t be seen with you!”
I shrug. “It’s cold out, and you have nowhere to go. Your loss.” I walk backward, smirking at him.
“Are you just going to leave me here?” Man asks.
“If you’re not coming, then yes,” I reply. I walk farther away, leaving him behind. I round the corner, almost out of sight, when he throws his hands up and jogs over to me.
“Fine! Fine, I’ll stay the night! But only if you can get me to my other house in the morning.” He stops beside me to catch his breath.
“You have another house?” I ask. He glares at me as I grin.
“You’re not burning another one down!” He starts on his way down the street behind me.
“Sure, sure,” I say, stepping to the right to avoid a mailbox.
There’s a loud clang when he runs right into the mailbox I just dodged. “Ouch, what the heck?!”
I snicker at him.
He grumbles something to himself.
I suddenly stop, making him run right into me.
“What did you stop for?” He asks, grumbling.
I ignore him, searching for an opening in the treeline.
“Are you even listening–” he starts.
I slap my hand over his mouth. “Shh! I’m trying to find the place I came from!”
He shoves my hand off his face. “What does that have to do with the woods?”
“SHH!” I repeat. I listen for the sound of crows. As soon as I hear one, I charge into the woods yelling, “This way!”
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